“Thanks,” I said softly, so touched by his words that I forgave him for saying I smelled bad. “But I’m fine, Cola. And I’m getting close to a breakthrough with my assignment. I’m sure I can solve Alyce’s problem.” I didn’t add that a Dark Lifer was crucial to my plan.
“Yeah, I know. Grammy has told me the same thing. But Alyce is my best friend and helping her will only take a few more days.” Days you won’t have, my dog said gravely.
“What do you mean?” I clutched at the soft quilted bed comforter.
Cola straightened, haunches tense and fur bristling, looking fierce like a warrior dog readying for battle.
“Psychically?”
“But that’s not fair! I need more time.” Then hope that Gabe Deverau is captured. Soon.
17
I’d been lying on my back and staring up at the ceiling forever, or maybe ten minutes, since Cola left in a rather spectacular lightning flash.
Trying not to stress over Cola’s message, I told myself that being pulled from my mission wouldn’t be all that bad. It would be great to be me again, to play with my sisters and do mundane chores around the house. I actually missed hearing Mom sing off-key to country music while she jogged on her treadmill, and Dad’s corny dinner-table lectures. I wouldn’t even mind the stink of cleaning Snowy’s litter box.
But my TL job wasn’t finished. I was
And what about Gabe?
I needed to warn him and fulfill my promise of a meeting with Grammy. No more putting this off — I had to see my grandmother.
So I dug into Monkey Bag for the phone. I flipped it open, glancing at a wall clock and figuring Grammy should be back from the zoo by now. Only before I could hit her number, the phone burst with song. When I saw the caller ID, I couldn’t answer fast enough.
“Eli!” I cried, flopping back on Alyce’s bed and leaning against a pillow. It was amazing how just seeing his name on the phone perked my spirits up.
“Yeah, it’s me,” he rasped, wearily.
“You don’t sound like yourself. Are you sick?”
“I’m losing my voice.”
“You sound good to me. It’s been, like, days! I’ve really missed you.”
“Me too.”
“So when can I see you?”
“That’s why I’m calling. There’s … um … something … ” He paused in this really awkward, uncomfortable way, like he was about to knock me over with bad news.
“What is it?” I gripped the bed’s comforter.
“Uh … I don’t know how to tell you.”
“Just say it.”
“Okay … only it’s hard. I hate letting you down, but I thought you should hear it from me first.”
Oh. My. God. He was breaking up with me.
I went rigid, holding the phone like it was a grenade that could blow up my entire world. I should have expected this; Eli was on TV and had all those girls screaming his name and waving posters. Then there was his gorgeous competitor Mila who’d clung to him like she was applying for the role of Siamese twin — or new girlfriend.
How could I compete with glamorous and talented Mila? They’d travel on concert tours together, sharing cozy meals and adjoining hotel rooms. It would be torture reading tabloids that buzzed about their showmance. Photos of them together, smiling, dancing, kissing, would be all over the news. I’d never turn on the TV again and join a nunnery.
“Amber, are you there?” Eli asked through the phone.
I didn’t want to be, not if it meant losing him.
“Yeah … I’m here.”
“You’re so quiet. I thought the connection died.”
Something worse was dying, I thought miserably. Then I closed my eyes, the way people did when facing a firing squad. Ready, aim …
“Go ahead … tell me.”
“It’s over,” Eli said with a sigh.
My heart plunged off a cliff, shattering.
“Oh,” was all I could say.
“I’m really sorry, Amber — I know how much it meant to you — but I’m out of the
“The contest … this is about
“What else?” he asked, clueless. “The judges came to a unanimous decision — I’m out. Everyone will know once it airs. I’ve been dreading telling you, but there it is.”
“Wow! That’s great!”
“Didn’t you hear what I said?”
“Yeah.” I tried to work up some sorrow or at least sympathy. And I really did feel bad for him … at least, the parts of me that weren’t jumping up with joy.
“Your boyfriend is a loser,” Eli said.
“Pul-leeese, you’re not a loser. Must you always be so overly dramatic?” I teased, paying him back for once accusing me of the same thing.
“But you wanted me to be a star — then you could be my manager and we’d both go Hollywood together.”
“All I want is for you to come home. I’ll make it to Hollywood on my own someday. For now, I’m where I want to be — or at least I will be soon. My assignment may end in two days, then I’ll return to my own body.”
“Now that’s good news. I miss your body … not that way … well, maybe a little that way … but not like … you know what I mean,” he said, stumbling over his words in that adorable klutzy way I loved.
“I know,” I said, smiling.
“Are you sure you don’t hate me for losing?”
“Over a dumb contest? Never happen.”
“I didn’t even make the final three — number four and out the door. And Mila didn’t waste her time telling reporters that there wasn’t any showmance between us. Everyone says she’ll take top prize.”
“Wrong,” I told him in a flirty tone. “She doesn’t have you.”
Sappy? Yes, but true, and it led to Eli saying some sappy stuff, too, that would just look dumb written down, but it meant a lot to me. And I sensed Eli’s confidence returning, too, which made me feel good. I asked him to tell me more about the competition and he had me laughing out loud with the crazy stuff the fans did to get noticed.
“They’d wait outside the hotel every day, screaming our names and throwing gifts like flowers and stuffed animals while they screamed for autographs. One little boy, about five years old, asked me to sign his sneaker.”
